Hot for Slayer (Scared Sexy Collection)

And then I tighten my arms around him as he regains his breath, feeling the kisses he presses against my collarbone, my breasts, the soft flesh under my chin, and . . .

I start laughing. And laughing.

And laughing.

Lazlo lifts his head to glare at me. “Glad to see that you find the most meaningful moment of my life hilarious.”

“No, no, I . . . It’s not—” I try to stop chuckling, in vain. “I was just thinking, we need to commission a commemorative plaque. Put it up right there, on that wall.”

“Why?”

“Because . . . A slayer and a vampire. Doing it. It has to be a first in all of history, right?”

I hold Lazlo’s palm against my mouth, latch tightly on to the wound he created for me, just for me, and take deep, thick gulps as I climb on top of him to straddle his lap.

It’s like he’s my own prey—one I’ve hunted down and subdued and captured. One I’ve decided to keep for myself.

“I . . . I think you have an advantage. And you know things about me. That I . . . don’t. About you, that is. And it’s only fair that . . .” I fist my hands at my sides, feeling dizzy. Slowly, surely, an idea coalesces in my head. “It’s only fair that I spend time with you. And that we get even.”

He freezes like what I just said detonated a million bombs in his brain. But then he nods gingerly as if not to spook me.

“Maybe we could . . . Tomorrow night, for instance? Meet? And talk? But I’m going to need to leave now. I’ve bled a lot, which means that I’m going to need to feed soon, so I’ll have to find someone who—”

“I will help,”

So, what . . . what would you like to do? Now that . . . What would you . . . ?”

His throat works. “It’s your decision to make, Aethelthryth.”

Oh my God. It is.

It really is.

“You stabbed me. As recently as Berlin.”

His eyebrow lifts. “And you impaled me in Colombia. Aethelthryth, for people like us, that’s the equivalent of pinching. And after a while, hunting you became the only way to be close to you. I wanted to spend time with you, but I could only do it as the slayer tasked with bringing an end to your bloodline.” He looks out the window. “I gave myself permission to show myself to you once a decade. And the remaining time, I just stuck around. Made sure you were okay. Not that you haven’t proven over and over that you can take care of yourself, but . . .” He shrugs again, and for the first time since becoming a vampire, I understand something very important.

I may not need to breathe, but I still need to be able to breathe. And right now, I just can’t.

“I had been raised to . . . I was told that vampires were a detriment to this world. But it was obvious that you made others’ lives easier. And looking at you, I couldn’t help but think that the world was better. Because you were in it.”

“But you still tried to . . .” Kill me, I want to say. Because he did. For centuries. Over and over.

“After I formed my opinion of you, I focused on the rest of your bloodline. Two other women who, like I said, don’t hurt innocents. I decided to spare them, too. But after that . . .” For the first time, I sense some hesitation. As though what comes next, he’s not too comfortable with. Something harder to admit. “I missed you. Watching you. Observing you. I just . . . liked you. It was a new feeling for me, wanting to know
someone. Wanting to be known by them as I truly am. So I tried to do that.”

“You tried to . . . what?”

“To talk to you. To explain that I no longer wished to kill you.”

“When?”

“In Italy. Then in Derbyshire, during the nineteenth century. In Turkey, a few years later. Thailand and Indonesia. A few more times, too.”

So, we talked about the meaning of life or some shit at a dance, and you had fun, and you changed your mind about killing vampires because . . .” I swallow. “Because you suddenly found me cute or something?”

“I didn’t suddenly find you anything. I always knew you were . . . cute.” His lips curl as though it’s the first time he’s used the word in all his eons, and it tastes too saccharine in his mouth. “You’ve never not been . . . that, to me. And no. That’s not the reason.”

“Then what—”

“I spent years killing your kind. Then, at the ball, I exchanged a few words with you. And for the first time since I was turned into a slayer, I realized that you were not as soulless as I had been taught. You were rational. You had feelings. You thought of more than just your own desires.” He crosses his arms, unapologetic. “So I decided to do my own research.”

“Which would be . . . ?”

“You seemed wise. And interesting. But at the start, I didn’t mean to spare you. I just wanted to observe you. To learn more.”

“And?”

“I observed. Always from afar. And there was a lot of you to study. I learned that you didn’t kill indiscriminately. That you helped weak people carry heavy bags. That you shared your wealth and defended innocents and offered to walk your neighbor’s dog when she broke her hip.”

Oh my God. He’s talking about Mrs. Cole and Pumpkin, in the 1930s. “He was a very cute dog,” I say, numb.

I didn’t choose to become a slayer. I was the youngest son of poor parents, and they sold me off to the Guild to feed my older siblings. Nothing was explained to me—I was molded and plied and ordered to slaughter what was described to me as a horde of beasts made in the devil’s image that threatened the very survival of humankind. But four centuries ago . . . things changed, and I no longer wanted any part of that. I left. The Guild tried to punish me, but after a while they realized that no slayer was powerful enough to take me, and they quit. There aren’t too many vampires left, and all I want is to mind my business. I may be a loose end for them, but I’m a harmless one.”

“How long?”

“Hmm?” In the kitchen, he takes off his sweater to wash off the worst of the blood.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Come on. You know how long.”

Right. “Why?”

“Why not?” He shrugs. “I have lots of free time. Very few interests. Just the one, really.” He glances in my direction.

“Right. My bad.” He clears his throat. “Aethelthryth, nothing would make me happier than having you with me here, or in any other place that I will call home, for as long as I live. Please, come in.”